


Bladders of a Feather

by orphan_account



Category: Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Legend of the Three Caballeros (Cartoon), The Three Caballeros (1944)
Genre: Banter, Bets & Wagers, Bottomless, Desperation, Gen, Humor, Kink, Leaking, No Plot/Plotless, Omorashi, Pantsless, Pee Holding Contest, Potty Dance, pee holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Cabs test each other's bladder might with a holding contest. One makes it out on top and the other two barely make it.
Relationships: José Carioca & Donald Duck & Panchito Pistoles, José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Bladders of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> One idea I have of omo with the Three Cabs. They could be friends or lovers here, take your pick. It has no real bearing on this story. Enjoy!

“I need to use the restroom,” Jose said, rising up and departing toward the hall.

_ “Caramba, _ Jose, you bladder’s the size of a pea,” taunted Panchito, sipping on his soda.

“I cannot help it! And it’s not that small!”

Donald called back as Jose shut the bathroom door, “I dunno, this is the third time in an hour and a half you’ve had to go.”

“My friend, you are ridiculous!”

“No, he’s right,” Panchito responded, propping a leg on the coffee table. “Whatever’s in this cola, it’s moving through you like a waterfall.”

“Leave him be, Panch. It is how it is. We’ll get through this series even if it takes all night.”

A brief devious look flew over Panchito’s beak then disappeared just as swiftly. Donald gulped. This was where their nightly hangouts went up a notch. Jose returned just in time to hear whatever idea Panchito had in mind.

“Let’s have a little  _ competencia, _ we three, eh?” he said.

“Like what?” said Jose.

“Whoever can hold their pee all the way to the end of the  _ telenovela _ will get $25.”

“You, my friend, are  _ louco! _ We have 5 hours to watch still!” balked Jose, gesturing at the TV.

“Ugh, fine, we can just do last man standing. But you have to drink a can of soda after every episode!” said Panchito, pointing at Jose.

“I’ll never make it!”

“Are you sure? Let us find out.”

There was that look again. Jose rolled his eyes. “Donal’, what do you think?”

Donald shrugged. “I think you both are crazy, but I know I’ll be pressured into this like always, so I’m gonna make sure I win.”

Jose sighed. “Very well. I will show you I can last.”

“We shall see,  _ amigo.” _

Thus, cans were passed around and quickly sucked down. They returned to the couch to get back into the drama and madness of Patos de la Pasion.

As the end credits rolled on the next episode, Panchito wiped tears away. “They’re so beautiful together.”

Donald stood up to grab three more cans. “Betcha one of ‘em is killed off next episode.” He tossed one each to his friends.

“Donald, you have no faith! Nothing can tear their love apart!”

Donald scoffed, then turned to Jose, whose legs were crossed, one over then other, slightly emphasizing the shape of his crotch. “Don’t tell me you gotta go already.”

Jose looked at him, a slight embarrassed blush just over his beak. “...and what if I did?”

“Then your chances for making it through are slim,  _ senor pipi a menudo,” _ Panchito taunted.

Jose stuck his tongue out at Panchito.

“Alright, kids, knock it off and bottom’s up,” said Donald, sitting down again, in the middle.

Another can down, which Jose drank slower this time. He couldn’t help but be distracted whenever his bladder gave the slightest twinge. His stomach was full with fizzy drink, and he worried in his mind whether or not he could win. He always answered nature whenever it called and never put it off. Did his body have the capability of holding out longer than his friends? For better or worse, the suave Brazillian was about to find out.

By the time two episodes had passed, Donald was really feeling it. The vast amount of liquid had settled into a dull ache between his legs. He pressed his thighs together and brushed down his lavender t-shirt. He looked over at Jose, who had a hand between his legs already. The parrot definitely looked uncomfortable as his legs bounced up and down.

“Panchito, why don’t you get the soda this time?” said Donald, “I don’t feel like getting up.”

Rising up, Panchito smirked. “Ah, that money is as good as mine!”

As he fished more cans from the cardboard container, Donald noticed a slight swaying of Panchito’s hips, more evident thanks to the very tight jeans he was wearing.

“How are you holding up, Panch?” asked Donald as Panchito returned to the couch.

“Just fine,  _ mi amigo. _ In fact, I’m thirsty!” said the rooster, draining his soda like it was nothing.

Donald chuckled, then slightly winced when it added some pressure to his bladder.  _ Talk a big game all ya want, but don’t deny it. You gotta go just as bad as we do. _

Panchito gulped. Another episode had ended and he was wondering if this was the thanks he got for talking such a big game. His urge had grown acutely in the space of a few minutes to a critical level, and he couldn’t hide what he was aching to do any longer. He grunted and clutched the front of his jeans with both hands. Sweat dripped down his brow as he prayed that his friends didn’t notice him suddenly struggling to hold it in.

“Jose, look! Panch’s holdin’ himself!” said Donald.

_ Caramba, they do notice.  _ Panchito tried to smile, but even he could tell how pained it look, further adding to his embarrassment. Donald was shifting in his seat and Jose was basically potty dancing sitting down. Small comfort for the rooster who was just as if not more desperate than they were at that moment.

“Gimme a break!” he exclaimed, opening and closing his thighs. “It’s cold in here! And this belt is making it worse too!” He tugged on the thick leather belt that basically glued his already skin-tight pants to him. The belt buckle was digging into his bladder, amplifying his urgent need.

“So why don’t you...take it off?” said Jose, in between a sigh.

“It’s part of my outfit, man!” Before Panchito could say anything more, his bladder throbbed. “Ah! Oooooooh-!” His crotch burned and warm liquid surged out in the briefest of squirts. Panchito glowed red, feeling the tiniest of wet spots under his finger. After all the smack he talked, he had been the first to break.

“My friend, are you doing okay?” Jose asked.

“Don’t tell me you’re in trouble already,” said Donald, raising an eyebrow.

“O-of course not! I-I will get the soda now,” he whimpered, easing himself onto his feet slowly. A hand was locked on his crotch as he shuffled across the room, feeling like thousands of eyes were watching him. Suddenly, there came another seizing pain in his bladder. “Nononono!” He stopped and squeezed, then hissed as more pee leaked out. He removed his hands and balked at the almost palm size dark spot on his crotch, painfully obvious on his light blue jeans.

Donald gasped. “Holy moly, he’s leaking!”

“I can’t hold it!” Panchito whined, dashing away toward the bathroom.

“Just you and me, Joe.”

“Indeed. The one that talks the most falls the flattest. Though, I’m not sure how much longer I can last.” Jose grinned, embarrassed, wiggling in his seat.

“We’ll see,” said Donald. “To be honest, I’m dying for a tinkle too.”

Liquid splashing was heard coming from the bathroom, aggravating both birds’ bladders, causing them to press on their crotches, willing them closed.

“And that’s not helping matters!” Donald grunted.

“I concur…” Jose panted.

Another episode and both were nearing the end of their rope. Donald was upright, dancing openly. He hopped from one foot to the other, one hand massaging where his pee would come out. “Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go…”

Jose was more subtle about it, but he kept a vice grip between his legs, swaying his hips and crossing his legs in place. “Mmph...so full…”

“I don’t understand it,” Panchito griped, wet spot where he leaked now faint but noticeable. “I was doing so well and then I just popped.”

_ “I’m _ about to pop!” Donald griped, dancing feverishly.

“I expected Jose to not last as long as he did. Stunning, no?”

“I suppose, my friend,” said Jose, moaning. “I...did not know I could last this long either.”

Donald stopped and gritted his teeth. A huge wave of desperation surged down his spine and to his bladder. “I’m gonna wet myself!” he cried, holding on with all his might. Sure enough, a spurt splashed onto his hands and he turned red in the face. “Aw, phooey!” he shuddered, running to the bathroom in the same manner Panchito had.

“I won, I won!” exclaimed Jose, a tired smile on his face. He too rushed into the bathroom. Panchito heard wild quacking and desperate Portuguese from down the hall and shook his head.  _ “Caramba…” _

Jose got his $25 and the three ended up finishing the series without a hitch. Of course, it did take all night thanks to the frequent bathroom breaks all three of them had to take, and by the end, Donald and Panchito were more sympathetic to Jose’s unfortunate bladder size. After all, it wasn’t the biggest, but it could sure go the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Competencia - competition  
> louco - crazy  
> senor pipi a menudo - Mr. Pee Often


End file.
